


Marvel Slash Ficlets

by Salmon_Pink



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Community: comicdrabbles, Incest, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted Marvel ficlets, all featuring slash pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Afterglow (Peter/Johnny)

**Author's Note:**

> All ficlets under 500 words, all individually rated. Additional content notes, such as kinks and spoilers, included where necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter/Johnny, rated PG-13. Written for [Comic Drabbles](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com), prompt "first".

“I can’t believe that just happened!” 

Peter glances over at Johnny, who’s sprawled beside him on Peter’s bed like he owns the whole damn room, sheets tangled around his waist and legs. Johnny has one hand tucked casually behind his head, the other raised in front of his face as he lazily watches fire dance across his palm.

All in all, Johnny looks the very picture of nonchalance. Dishevelled and still slightly flushed nonchalance, but nonchalance nonetheless.

Peter clears his throat pointedly.

“I _said_ , I can’t believe that just happened.”

Johnny makes a noncommittal noise, eyes focused on the tiny flame he’s making bounce between his fingertips.

“Would you cut that out?” Peter hisses. “Before you set the bed on fire.”

Johnny finally turns to look at him, and Peter instantly wishes he’d look away again, because Johnny’s grin is huge and wolfish. “Didn’t we _already_ set the bed on fire?” he leers.

“You know what I mean! Look, I’m kind of freaking out here,” Peter babbles. “Are you not freaking out? Because I feel like we should be freaking out.”

Johnny shrugs half-heartedly. “Sure, whatever,” he replies, except the words end up cracking around a huge yawn.

“We just had sex,” Peter half-shouts, only for his voice to drop to a whisper on the last word. “Sweaty, passionate, intense, _gay_ sex!”

“You forgot ‘acrobatic’,” Johnny points out helpfully.

“Oh God,” Peter moans, burying his face in his hands.

“Yeah, you already said that earlier,” he hears Johnny murmur, his tone low and dirty. “A _lot_. Should have known you’d never shut up, Parker, even when I -”

“Oh _God_ ,” Peter wails again, spinning around so he can slam his face into the mattress and pull a pillow over his head.

“Are you always this dramatic after sex?” Johnny asks in a singsong voice.

“Only sex with you,” Peter mumbles through the pillow.

“Well, don’t I feel special.” 

“How are you not freaking out?” Peter asks, and he doesn’t actually mean to sound so maudlin but he can’t help himself.

“I just had sweaty, passionate, intense, acrobatic sex,” Johnny informs him. “I’m feeling way too _relaxed_ for freaking out.”

One of Johnny’s hands settles on the small of Peter’s back, and it should probably make Peter want to climb walls, or at least freak out some more, but instead it makes a rush of electricity spike through his body.

“Look, Pete, the gay sex thing is a first for me too,” Johnny admits, and his hands is moving slightly now, rubbing slowly up and down Peter’s spine. “But, just FYI, I would be _totally_ up for doing it again. You know, if you’re not too busy freaking out.”

Peter feels his face heating up. After a long moment he hears himself mutter, “Fine, just give me five more minutes of existential angst.”

“Awesome,” Johnny replies, and Peter can already picture the triumphant smirk on his face. 

Funnily enough, it just makes him blush harder still.


	2. Last Minute (Billy/Teddy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy/Teddy, rated NC-17. Set before _Young Avengers_ V2. Written for [Comic Drabbles](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com), prompt "seduction".

“Don’t go,” Billy whispers against Teddy’s lips. It’s unfair to ask, he knows it is, but it’s late and Teddy’s kisses feel so _good_. 

Teddy sighs against him, smiling fondly, and Billy presses his lips to the curled-up corner of Teddy’s mouth.

“You know I have to,” Teddy reminds him, and it’s true. Billy’s parents have been incredible, letting Teddy move in with them, but they have their limits. There’s an unspoken curfew, a time of night where Billy and Teddy are expected to be in their own rooms.

It won’t be long until Billy’s mum finds an excuse to knock on his door, to remind them with her presence that Teddy needs to head back to his own bedroom. That’s the official warning, and Billy respects it, but he doesn’t want to let Teddy go.

He doesn’t _ever_ want to let Teddy go, but tonight he’s feeling extra clingy.

“Stay,” Billy pleads, fidgeting up on to his knees, bowing their foreheads together. “Just one more minute.”

Teddy’s thumb follows the curve of his jaw. “One more minute?” he asks sceptically, because he knows all Billy’s tricks, he knows one more minute won’t be enough. But he’s still smiling and he isn’t leaving, so Billy pushes closer, one leg over Teddy’s lap.

“One more minute,” he promises, mouth to Teddy’s ear, and Teddy shivers for the warmth of his breath, the buzz of his voice. 

Pressing kisses to the shell of Teddy’s ear, sliding his tongue over silver earrings, and he knows that’s cheating but it isn’t enough to make Billy stop. He knows what this _does_ to Teddy, and sure enough Teddy gasps, hips twitching under Billy’s thigh, hand grasping Billy’s waist. Making this low noise that goes straight to Billy’s cock when he licks into the hollow of Teddy’s ear.

So unfair, to wind Teddy up when he knows they have to part, but he’s feeling his inner brat and Teddy’s so _tempting_.

Especially when his hand slides down beneath the waistband of Billy’s pyjamas, and then it’s _Billy’s_ turn to gasp as one finger slips beneath his cheeks, tracing the cleft of his ass. Ticklish brush of skin turning firmer as it descends, and it instantly has Billy squirming, sweating beneath his clothes, cock jerking and a thin noise caught between his lips.

Teddy’s finger pushes lower, teasing hint of pressure against Billy’s asshole, and Billy’s whimpering, trying to push back, trying to get _more_.

At which point he’s unceremoniously dumped backwards across the bed, and Teddy’s stepping away.

“Minute’s up,” Teddy shrugs, and he can’t quite hold back his laughter at Billy’s indignant splutter.

The _jerk_.

“You’ll pay for this, Altman,” Billy groans, throwing an arm over his head, and Teddy leans down and kisses him gently, chastely. 

“Counting on it,” Teddy murmurs, and Billy gets a glimpse of the _heat_ in his eyes, before Teddy’s dutifully leaving for his own bedroom.

Yeah, Billy’s totally been played. But revenge will wait till morning.


	3. Muffled (Shatterstar/Rictor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shatterstar/Rictor, rated NC-17. Mentions of past internalised homophobia. Written for [Comic Drabbles](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com), prompt "pillow".

Shatterstar’s hands are at his hips. Firm grip, the kind of grip that can hold him down easily, and Rictor presses his forehead against the back of his wrist, panting roughly. Lips at the base of his spine, and Shatterstar’s murmuring something, talking to him low and sweet, but Rictor can’t hear over the pounding of his pulse in his ear. Just feels the vibration, the rumble against his skin, and it’s nothing like the earthquakes he used to be able to control but it’s somehow just as devastating.

Hands sliding lower, palming his ass, and Rictor feels something hysterical bubbling in his chest. He and Star, they have a history, but nothing like this. It was more about frantic kisses and fumbling handjobs, a couple of awkward attempts at sucking each other off on the nights Rictor felt brave enough. Young and clumsy and too hungry for it, too scared. 

At least, _Rictor_ was scared. Shatterstar probably not so much, and Rictor’s starting to realise that Shatterstar would have given him anything back then. He’s starting to realise what that _means_.

Feeling Shatterstar’s thumbs against his ass, spreading his cheeks, and his hips buck forward, nervous and skittish, but Shatterstar holds him steady. Hot, damp breath, and then Shatterstar’s tongue is sweeping up the cleft of Rictor’s ass, and he hears himself make a rough, choked sound. Trembling a little as Star licks him again and again, tongue catching against his hole, and he never realised it would feel like this, like he’s twisting up inside his own body. So fucking good, tease and slick pressure, all his fears and inhibitions caught between Shatterstar’s hands and the slide of his tongue.

He wants to go back in time, punch his younger self in the head. Tell him to forget all that stupid macho bullshit that was spoon-fed to him through his youth, because finding something this amazing isn’t easy. Knows what his younger self would say, remembers all the insults. ‘Pillow biter’, and Rictor groans and does just that, teeth digging into the fabric of the pillow, dry cottony taste in his mouth as he tries to muffle all his desperate noises.

His younger self was an _idiot_ , and Shatterstar’s tongue spears him open, rippling inside, growling these needy sounds as he eats Rictor out. Fucking Rictor like this, thrust and drag and the dirty wet noises between them, and Rictor bites deep into the pillow, something like a sob caught in his chest, cock leaking against his stomach as he surrenders to a lust too long kept banked.


	4. Rushed Respite (Ben/Johnny)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben/Johnny, rated NC-17. Set during _Fantastic Four_ #524. Written for [Comic Drabbles](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com), prompt "disconnect".

So their powers are gone, temporarily. Bouncing around New York, apparently from one random person to the next, and Ben feels for the schmucks that get to taste what it feels like to be The Thing, even if it’s only for a few minutes.

At least they get to pass it on, give it back, returning that power to Ben once Reed’s finished with whatever doohickey he’s throwing together to make the transfer possible.

Won’t be long now, because it’s _Reed_ , so they’ll be lucky if they have ten whole minutes before they’re summoned back to the lab.

Not enough time, because it’s _never_ going to be enough time, but right now it’s all Ben’s got and it’s better than nothing.

Johnny’s eyes are glazed over. Kid’s been shaken since his brief stint as the Herald of Galactus, unfocused and skittish, but none of that’s got anything to do with his current hazy expression. That’s all to do with Ben’s hand where it’s shoved down Johnny’s tights, working him fast and frantic. Twisting his wrist into it, just to hear Johnny _whine_ , biting his lip and pushing up into the touch.

Disconnected from his flame powers, the kid’s usual furnace of a body temperature is banked to something more human, but the flesh under Ben’s palm still manages to feel so _hot_. Thick and hard and pulsing in his hand, and Ben rubs his thumb over the head of Johnny’s cock, swallows the moan with a rough kiss. They’re in a back corridor, didn’t even make it to one of their bedrooms, and they need to keep the noise down or they’re screwed, out in the open like this, no matter how much Ben wants to hear Johnny’s voice.

There’s pre-come on his wrist and Johnny’s spit on his lips and Ben _loves_ it. Only gets this once in a blue moon, when the universe goes wacky, when something messes with his powers. Getting to feel Johnny, really _feel_ him, flesh-on-flesh. Tang of sweat on his tongue, because Johnny may not perspire when he’s the Human Torch, but right now he’s nothing of the sort, and it tastes so good.

They don’t have long, and he doesn’t want to rush, but they’ve got no choice. “Come on, bic-head,” he growls, lips pressed to Johnny’s jaw. “Wanna see you lose it.” And Johnny never does what Ben says, except for times like this, head thudding back against the wall as he wails into Ben’s mouth and comes all over his hand.

So fucking sweet, and Ben wants to savour it, but the clock’s still ticking. Watching Johnny pull himself together, cocky smirk on his swollen lips as he sinks to his knees, and Ben grins wide, hands tangled in Johnny’s hair, ready to enjoy what little time he has.


	5. Sincerest Form Of Flattery (Wade/Peter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wade/Peter, rated PG. Written for [Comic Drabbles](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com), prompt "team-up".

It’s a cheap knock-off, the kind that can be found in any store in New York around Halloween. The red is too dull, the blue too light, and the fabric is overly shiny.

“Is the blue slimming? I feel like the blue is slimming.” 

Peter just pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He wishes he could say this is the first time he’s been jumping across rooftops, only to have Wade casually land next to him out of nowhere. 

It _is_ the first time Wade’s landed next to him wearing a Spider-Man costume.

It’s too small on him, stretched out over the broadness of his shoulders, sliver of sore-looking flesh visible between the end of the sleeves and the gloves. Wade’s twisting around to admire himself, costume riding up at the waist, exposing the small of his back.

Peter sees blisters and angry red marks, before he makes himself snap his gaze back up to Wade’s face. Or Spider-Man’s face, and the mask doesn’t quite have the proportions right, the eyes a little too big and far apart.

“I look hot, right?” Wade asks, striking a pose, ass stuck out and back arched. “It’s okay to admit it, I’d tap me.”

“Go _away_ , Deadpool,” Peter snaps.

Wade freezes, and it’s amazing how expressive the mask looks on him. Or maybe Peter’s just gotten good at reading him through a layer of fabric and white-out lenses.

He actually looks _hurt_ , which is completely impossible, because Wade’s a homicidal maniac and doesn’t care what Peter thinks of the way he looks.

Except he’s Deadpool, so of _course_ he cares about something so ridiculous.

“But I thought you’d be all in for a team-up,” Wade says, sounding distressingly petulant.

“You’re the bad guy,” Peter reminds him helpfully. “We don’t fight crime together.”

“Screw fighting crime,” Wade scoffs, and Peter’s spider-senses aren’t tingling, but Wade’s definitely closer than he was before. “I was thinking more along the lines of a little Spidey-on-Spidey action.”

Peter squints at him through his own mask. “You mean you want to fight?” he asks slowly, because his spider-sense _still_ isn’t picking up anything dangerous from Wade.

“Oh, you are just _precious_ ,” Wade squeals, and he’s very much in Peter’s space now. Inch of air between their masks, and his hands are on Peter’s hips, hot through the spandex. Voice pitching lower, rougher, as he murmurs, “That’s not the kind of ‘action’ I had in mind.”

Peter swallows thickly, mouth suddenly dry. Wade’s thumbs dip under the waistband of his tights, rubbing over the jut of his hipbones before sliding lower. Peter’s pretty sure he hears himself whimper.

“And people say _I’m_ narcissistic,” Wade says, before pressing their mouths together, and kissing somebody through two masks shouldn’t set Peter’s blood on fire the way that it does.

He’s kissing an insane person who’s wearing his costume, and Peter doesn’t miss the irony as he gives in to losing his mind.


	6. Dragged Deep Down (Billy/Tommy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy/Tommy, rated NC-17. Sex pollen. Incest. Written for [Comic Drabbles](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com), prompt "quicksand".

Billy’s gasping, writhing, drowning on oxygen. Lungs burning, and he knows he’s only making it worse as he sucks in the air. Air that’s _sparkling_ , and he doesn’t know if it’s magic or science or alien, just knows that it’s making his body ache and _need_.

And Tommy’s right there with him, just as overcome as Billy is. Weight pressing Billy down into the dirt, teeth at Billy’s neck, and Billy’s fingers claw over Tommy’s back, desperate for skin.

Whatever the powder is that glitters in the air, it’s making Billy dizzy, making it more and more difficult to hold on to his thoughts. Impossible to escape, like quicksand, and the more Billy tries to resist, the further he sinks under its influence. Twisted, naked arousal burning under his skin, and he trembles as Tommy bites at his ear.

“Billy,” Tommy’s gasping, and he sounds so helpless, so _wrecked_. Hips grinding down between Billy’s thighs, sticky and wet, and Billy feels like he’s losing his mind. He’s already come once, but the need isn’t _stopping_ , and his head thuds back against the ground as Tommy’s shaking grows closer to frantic vibration.

“ _Please_ ,” Billy whimpers, and he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for. This is his brother, his twin, yet all he can focus on is how good it feels, the slide of their spandex, the hard curve of Tommy’s dick through the fabric as it rubs against him. His scalp prickles with sweat, eyelashes damp, chest heaving, and he still wants _more_. 

“Fuck,” Tommy groans, hand wrapping around Billy’s thigh, hips savage as they buck against him, and God, Billy wants that. Wants Tommy to _fuck_ him, and he lets out a strangled sob, balls tightening, so close to coming again just for the _thought_ of Tommy driving into him.

It’s the powder, it’s all the powder, and Billy tries to hold to that thought, but it’s growing slippery within his mind, falling away from him. Tommy’s voice in his ear, lust in his veins, and he hears the rip of fabric but doesn’t register what it means. Not until the _heat_ , Tommy’s skin finally against his own, and he cries out, raw sound of feeling that gets muffled under Tommy’s lips.

“Billy,” Tommy whispers against his mouth, and all Billy can do is hold on, fingers laced through Tommy’s own, taste of the sparkling powder on his tongue.


End file.
